Unfinished Object
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I got an email this morning from the art center reminding me that this weekend is ‘open torch’ … four delightful hours playing with molten glass for the bargain price of $5 and a covered dish. I plan on going back to the beginning and working on making good round beads and even-sized dots, I might even try my first series. Not matching beads, I’m not ready for that, but beads of similar size in similar colors. I’m also going to go one step further with what we learned in our last class, encased beads, and give this a try. Aren’t they pretty?
I’m still rather smitten with the challenge of lampwork and have been entertaining myself this week by wearing a different bead every day on a wire necklace my uncle gave me that is just perfect for the job. I’ve also learned of a good use for my ‘one of a kind’ odd balls…Beads of Courage. They work with hospitals who give kids beads as they reach certain milestones in treatment for serious illnesses culminating with a purple heart at the end of treatment. I haven’t the talent to make the hearts or butterflies they prefer, but I did discover that they take any bead and I think the one I’m wearing today is kid-wonky-perfect.
I seem to have reached the point where I can let the beads go. I took them with me to the party we went to last weekend so I could show them to a friend who had taken a similar class. Of course if you set a bowl of beads out on the table you’re gonna loose a few; some to folks that mistake them for hors-d’oeuvres and some to folks that are buzzed enough to think they are cool. I don’t know how many wandered off that night; the only one I’m sure of was my second attempt at an owl. I might try another one of those this weekend as well; time permitting. If I can get it right I think they’d make cute cell phone charms.
Like most hobbies I’ve tired I want to rush out and buy everything that goes along with it but this one is a little more cost prohibitive than most and I am forced to take it slow…good news really. Plus, I’m still not making them at home – despite the fact that D spent a whole hour grinding the hard water deposits off of an old stainless steel dishwasher door last weekend so I’d have a clean work surface to use – so I have access to some of the specialty tools that are at the art center. Still, it’s very tempting when I look at a lampworking tool catalog…I do luvs me some tools and there are some nifty ones associated with this craft.
In any case I’m looking forward to the weekend. Even though it MUST involve cleaning toilets a few hours of creativity makes it worthwhile.
Somehow my iPod eats the music I love and spawns stuff I’ve never even heard of. Seriously. There is something on there called OAM’s Blues by Aaron Goldberg…no clue. Or how ‘bout Caviar’s Tangerine Speedo…wha?? Or, Michael Buble – how’d he get in there. No doubt some of these slipped in on a soundtrack or compilation or in Michael’s case because I uploaded a few CDs for my mom so she could use my iPod while she was in the hospital. But Cyndi Lauper is gone…just gone. And that’s tragic! Yes, really. You want me to wait while you laugh? I always figured if Madonna hadn’t burst onto the scene wearing her underwear on the outside Cyndi would have been much bigger than she was. There was a time when I had more than a few of Cyndi’s albums, but today my iPod contains At Last, which I never warmed up to and Twelve Deadly Cyns, a decent ‘greatest hits’ but no replacement for She’s So Unusual or True Colors. And here’s the kicker: it appears that I never actually owned those two albums in CD form - or the CD storage cabinet is in cahoots with the iPod and ate them – because they are nowhere to be found.
We have the same problem with DVDs. D and I would both swear we own certain movies but when we go to find them – nope. I figure we’re remembering VHS tapes that we never replaced when we switched to DVD’s. The cost of replacing them outweighs their importance…half of them are on TBS every weekend anyway…Die Hard anyone? But there are a few CD’s and DVD’s that I’d consider worth replacing and probably will someday when I find them in the sale bin. How about you? Do you have any movies or CD’s from your past you’d like to resurrect?
One of the ‘out of kilter things’ I mentioned yesterday is my hair. Not news, I know; if you’ve read the ‘Hairstory’ post you know my hair and I are rarely on the same page. Over the weekend I went for a cut and color, and feeling a little down I asked if they could squeeze in a pedicure while the color developed. Business being slow they were only too happy to accommodate me. I’m sure you can guess where I’m going with this…my hair cooked too long and is now about a full level too dark. Additionally I’m hanging on to a cut I hate – a bob – because I want as much hair as possible for the wedding. I’ve no idea what I’ll do after the wedding but I hate it so much I may be looking for a salon that very afternoon.
So, in desperation I wandered the hair-stuff aisle at Target last night. No, I’m not loopy enough to ‘re-color’ and try to fix it; I’ve no disillusions as to how that would work out. What I wanted was a large barrel curling iron because it’s becoming harder and harder to dry it on a round brush without creating a duck’s butt on the back of my head. I also examined clips and pins, barrettes and headbands and ended up with a ziz-zag headband that I thought might make for good wedding hair with the right amount of curling and teasing. Not being the kind of person that can ignore a new toy I employed both the iron and the headband this morning and trotted off to work pleased with myself.
When I arrived at work I caught sight of my reflection in the glass door and my first thought was “What were you thinking?” I have no idea how something that looks great in the bathroom mirror at home looks so flippin’ bad in the bathroom mirror at work. My make-up plays this trick too, but that’s another post. It probably doesn’t help that I’m wearing a shirt the color of pea-soup after Linda Blair gets done slinging it around the room … lovely with my too-dark hair. I’m only smiling in this photo because I believe it hides the wrinkles!
I’ve been feeling a little um … defeated lately. I really can’t think of another way to describe it. I’m not unhappy by the standard definition but I’m not a bouncing ball-o-joy either. There are no serious malfunctions or major screw ups, I’m not behind in my work and life in general is fairly orderly. At the same time everything is just a little out of kilter. From broken nails to a ruining a pair of my $35 super socks my list of disappointments is long but not terribly tragic. There’ve been several expectations that simply cannot be met, some due to money, some to commonsense and some because they were rather unrealistic. There is freedom in letting these go but somehow it’s not quite offsetting the dissatisfaction. Or, maybe I just need more chocolate?
Once I stepped out of the shower this morning I literally didn’t know what to do with myself. Well, dry off of course but after that…lost. I’ve reached the age where an annual mammogram is required and my appointment was this morning. In keeping with their requirements there was no makeup to apply, no deodorant, and no hair products. I don’t think I’m particularly high maintenance, but I do have a set routine in the morning and not being able to do any of it was a little unsettling. Next year I’m scheduling the appointment on Halloween so when I scare passers by with my unmade face I’ll at least have an excuse.
The nurse I drew must have worked at a winery in her past life because she sure knew how to run a press. Every time I thought she’d reached the limit of her hand strength to crank that baby down she’d go one more turn. I’d tell you she had no sense of humor, but I think the truth might actually be that she has a sick sense of humor. She kept telling me to hold my breath and I kept fighting the urge to say, “Look lady, I haven’t drawn air since that last squish for fear I’d move and you’d have to redo it…move it, would ya?!?”. Believe me when I say I know why they made me sign a piece of paper stating that I understood that there could be bruises. With my low platelet count my chest should look like the northern lights tomorrow. Oh well, its done, and though I won’t have the results for a few weeks ‘done’ is good.
We are going to an impromptu get together tonight for a friend’s daughter who graduated college and is moving to Australia next week. It’s our same ol’ group of folks, but it always makes for a pleasant evening. D has to work in the morning so I know it won’t be a late night which is extra great because I was awake from 1:30 to 3:00 last night and then my work phone rang at 4:00. Cranky? You betcha! The squisher lady is lucky I didn’t stick her head in there and take her picture. I’m getting my second wind now, but I’m still happy we aren’t planning on being out until all hours since I’m sure it won’t last long.
Oh, I nearly forgot. We did get our rings last night and they did finally get mine the way we wanted it. But I’ll be honest, I’m sorry I saw it the other way, because I might have liked it a little better. Still, the stone set in the band will be the most durable for my non lady like tendencies. I figure I can always wear it a while and change it later – especially with the stone ultimately being so affordable. You’ll be wondering how I could nearly forget such a thing. Simple. Both rings are already tucked away in a safe and won’t be worn until the wedding. I’ve a whole blog post on that decision, but it’s for another time.
My blogging absence hasn’t been based in ‘busy’ but rather in ‘lazy’. Well, lazy and lack of things to report. Monday I had my annual obgyn appointment, Tuesday was our final glass class, and last night I cooked steak. Toss in work and a few evening chores and you’ve got the condensed version of my week so far. The rest of the week holds: picking up our rings, going for a mammogram, a hair appointment and some serious house cleaning. Yes, I am wandering in the land of the mundane these days and while I don’t mind it I can’t imagine it being particularly interesting from your side of the monitor.
I’m increasingly ‘wedding consumed’ but given that today marks the 60 day point I suppose that isn’t so unusual. Most of our arrangements are completed and I’m down to the important business or what to wear. I purchased a dress online that will work, but I’m indifferent about it and feel like I should be a little more enthusiastic. If all else goes well this weekend I might hie myself to the nearest mall and do a little searching on Sunday. I’d make the darn thing if I could find the right fabric…I did find what I think is the right pattern…but the fabric is proving difficult. Oh how I wish I lived in NY, I know I could find something at Mood. But, I’m sure I’d also destroy my ‘no new fabric’ resolution if I so much as crossed the threshold so it’s certainly for the best that I’m no where near there. I’m having enough trouble with that resolution and a few new fabrics I’ve seen recently. Worse, if I don’t get sewing soon I’ll have to extend that resolution through next year because though I’m using from my stash its not shrinking very quickly.
I also did some online looking for what D will wear. I’ve left it entirely up to him but I wouldn’t want to be without suggestions should he ask. I like the ‘Cuban’ shirts, but imagine my surprise when I discovered them to run around $80. I had no idea. Just you wait, there’ll be some guy selling them for five bucks a pop when we step off the cruise ship. With my luck there’ll be someone selling wedding dresses too – hah!
If you were watching yesterday’s progress just scroll down to see the completed post. I thought it would be interesting for you to see it as it happened, but it just turned out confusing, so here is the whole project beginning to end. All in all it was a lovely way to spend a weekend.
8:00 am
9:30 am
10:30 am
11:45
12:00
1:00
1:55 pm
2:00 - 6:00 pm Intermission
7:30 pm
8:00 pm
9:00 pm
9:30 pm
Sunday
Sunday 8:00 am
8:30
9:00
10:00
10:30
11:00
11:15
11:30
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12:05
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1:45
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Pea presented an interesting challenge: Link five blog entries that explain who you are. Its tough really because in my mind its the whole blog that represents the facets of me. Well, the ones I dare to reveal anyway. But I like a challenge but I’m gonna bend the rules - surprised, right?
Fear Yep, a really recent post, but one that I felt was open and honest in a big way. I try not to let my physical rule my psyche but there’s no way one won’t influence the other.
Five hundred At first blush this one seems like an odd choice because its blogging about blogging. It is also about how I like to be treated and how I treat people; what I think is rude and what is not. I have some very strong feelings about things like this and though this is not the only post to address the topic it is a fair representation.
A walk on the beach Because I love that damn dog, and being outdoors, and taking photographs, and telling stories.
Goo Yes its gross, but I’ve got a gross, crass, way too honest streak that just cant be ignored.
Dear Hannah I chose this one because it reflects something I like about myself, that I can be generous for no reason, and that I can expect nothing in return...maybe not all the time, but it can be done.
And now, my cheat; extra links. I cant omit my ‘100 Things’ entries, both the ones for me and the ones for my grandparents who were a great influence on who I am. There are plenty of other meme entries that tell the tale, but none so well as these.
100 things for grandpa...
100 things for grandma...
100 things...
100 (more) things...
For the most part my little corner of flickr goes unnoticed and, based on the few comments it garners, it is visited even less often than my blog. Does this bother me? Not particularly. I could increase the traffic by joining groups and adding every passerby as a contact. I could leave comments and photos in strangers’ photo streams (oh, how I do hate when I see people leave the comment ‘Hey that reminds me of a photo I took’ and then drop a big ole photo in someone else’s comments – rude!). I could add three hundred tags to every photo so they would come up in searches. Honestly, I’m just too lazy. Like the blog my flickr site is mostly for me and like my home housekeeping there isn’t my strong suit.
I stumbled over a flickr meme today that I just can’t pass up. There are some tweaks to the rules because many of the photo streams I encountered requested that their photos not be used in blogs or links and I prefer to honor those requests. So here’s my stab at the flickr game…and if you like stop by the site and peruse a few photos.
The concept:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker).
The Questions:
1. What is your first name? Shannon
2. What is your favorite food? The title of the photo is “Did I hear someone say ‘food’”…which pretty much sums it up.
3. What high school did you go to? Had to go with a photo of me in high school (a beauty pagent of all things) all the photos tagged with my high school’s name were from the same photographer that asked that her images not be copied or blogged.
4. What is your favorite color? Red.
5. Who is your celebrity crush? Matthew McConaughey … wowzers!
6. Favorite drink? Rum & Coke.
7. Dream vacation? Ireland for the photo…but really anywhere with a great landscape would do.
8. Favorite dessert? Crème brule…my photo again, this one was from my 40th birthday.
9. What you want to be when you grow up? Creative – like all the time creative, not just in irregular bursts.
10. What do you love most in life? Nature – outdoors, though oddly I don’t spend enough time there.
11. One Word to describe you. Controlling. I micromanage every situation…not a good trait.
12. Your flickr name. Unfinished Object.
And finally…my mosaic:
Thanks and kudos to the following photographers:
1.Shannon, 2. ~ Did I Hear Someone Say “Food” ~, 3. hairstory9, 4. National Geographic behind the scene, 5. TRL Photobooth - Matthew McConaughey, 6. It’s a rum reflection, 7. Irish Farmland, 8. Creme Brule, 9. “Creative Hands” - Mindy, 10. Call of the Raven (formerly Nature’s Special Effects), 11. Control Room, 12. Unfinished construction in the nature
It’s been raining for days now. So much so it seems to be the main topic of conversation at every water cooler and lunch table. Even the news can’t seem to get enough as they are seeking out people whose yards resemble swimming pools. There are camera crews at every deep puddle waiting to get a shot of the great rolling wave the traffic sends up. People are moaning about their hair and the humidity, their freshly washed cars and the fact that the grass is growing so fast a machete will be needed before the mower can be run. And while they aren’t entirely wrong on any of these points I absolutely refuse to complain about the rain. Refuse, I say.
Instead I will tell you that there’s been a rainbow several nights this week, and sun dogs whenever the sun has poked through. The light has been amazing and while its not bright and sunny its still beautiful outside
“They look like big, good, strong hands, don’t they? I always thought that’s what they were.” So laments the Rock Biter in the Never Ending Story after his big, good, strong hands fail to prevent his friends from being swept away by the terrible Nothing. I have sat, just as he does, contemplating my hands, hands that I also believed were good, strong hands but are more and more revealing their traitorous side.
I do not have pretty, piano playing hands. My palms are broad, fingers short and stubby, nails fragile and weak. Jerry Seinfeld would say I have ‘man hands’ and he’d be right. My hands are my father’s and my grandfather’s and I am proud of that. They are working hands; they’ve known dirt and grease, oil and crud. They are fearless and willingly delve into the depths of the disposer for a missing spoon – or more recently a dropped bead. They’ve plucked eggs from beneath chickens, pulled weeds, caressed loved ones, cupped rain water, and wiped tears, strummed guitar strings, held tight to my car struck brother’s bleeding leg, operated a scissor lift, and struck innumerable keyboard keys.
They are outwardly worn and bear scars from their efforts. The two most notable are on the right hand. One sits at the edge of the pointer fingers first knuckle where hand becomes finger. While cleaning beneath an old oven top I slammed into one of the thermostat clips for the burner eyes, split the skin and slid it back across the white knuckle bone like a sock sliding down a shin. The other is high in the palm, just below the middle finger. It is short, white and nearly straight; clock hands pointing at eleven and four. When I was waiting tables I dropped a glass at the dish table and tried, unsuccessfully to catch it and when it shattered on the stainless steel I slapped that hand right into the shards. I am proud of these marks, they are proof of life.
There are also signs of disease and age. Both have splotches of missing pigment on the knuckles and red knots of tangled capillaries on fingertips. Age spots are beginning to appear and the skin is no longer smooth. These changes bother me little as they were never to be pretty hands. What is going on inside them breaks my heart. They ache deep in the joints with repetitive motion, like brushing my hair or flipping through a stack of papers. I ignore it, telling myself, it is life - live with it. When I’m cold, or stresses the blood stops moving through them and they become a kaleidoscope of red, white, and purple. These fits can result in ulcers, an extraordinarily painful experience that I’d rather not repeat, though its unlikely I have a choice. More distressing is what their future holds with the possible progression of the disease to one of its most damning components; sclerodactyly. My capable, strong, good hands will gradually become hard skinned and curled, immobile and useless. They will feed on them selves and absorb the bones at their tips. They will be claws to be stared at and muttered over. They will forget all they could do and know only that they hurt. My good, strong hands will be no more.
I’d say I have always been attracted to color, but I might be lying to you. I don’t recall having a favorite color as a small child. From seven up to my early teens my favorite colors were chestnut, buckskin, appaloosa, piebald and palomino. If a particular color didn’t come in horse then it was unlikely that I even knew it existed. I was nine-ish when we moved to Tennessee, and my mom who had always enjoyed decorating decided that it was time to do my room. She purchased a comforter that resembled quilted strips of fabric; black, yellow gingham check, brown, and a floral ran in alternating stripes from the headboard to the footboard. Yellow gingham on the windows. Paper bag brown on the walls. I’m sure for the time it was very chic but I hated it passionately, particularly those blah brown walls.
When we moved to Atlanta she kept the comforter, added a rattan headboard and hung a huge oriental paper parasol above the bed. Better, but still not me. In neither case could I have done a better job mostly because I could not have chosen a ‘favorite color’. If you asked me which I liked best my answer would probably depend on the context. Gem stones? Easy, garnet – the deep wine brown color. Shoes? Brown, suede whenever possible. Glass beads? I’m liking the water blues and greens and sharp contrasts. Fabric? No way could I answer that. As a broad generalization I can say that most recently reds are my favorites. Some months ago that slid to browns, particularly if those were paired with a certain blue. Of late that choice seems to be sliding again, still in the red family but drifting toward deep corals.
Ultimately color for me is as much about mood as it is about what it will be applied to. I might love that deep coral, but I probably wouldn’t drive a car that color. Some sewing patterns scream certain fabrics, colors and textures and seem silly in others. A leather sofa must be brown…no butters or blacks for me. Color choice is at once no rules and specific rules. I don’t dress as a summer or autumn or whatever it is I may be, and I don’t always wear colors that flatter me but opt instead for ones I enjoy. I’m not ignorant of what works best; I look nice in blue, certain pinks, black and white, but if I like a yellow shirt I’ll wear it because I like it and not worry that it makes me look like death warmed over.
There aren’t any hated colors, though there are some that I use less often. You will find only a small amount of purple, grey, black and yellow in my fabric stash but an abundance or reds, oranges, greens and blues. Pastels are fine, but I am drawn to deep, full colors or those that shift with changes of light. More is definitely better when it comes to color and yet I do enjoy a monochromatic scheme from time to time. I love looking at all those pretty things on Etsy that are done in natural linens and pale wools but if I set out to duplicate the effect you better believe you’ll end up needing sunglasses.
So. I obviously color outside the lines. How do you color?
Thursday we did indeed go and pick up the beads; but we had a good excuse...my ring was ready and going home from the jeweler put the art studio right on our way home. The beads were ok, the ring was a show stopper...it was also wrong. Even after all of our discussion about setting the center stone as low as possible it was set high over the band. Honestly, it was so darn pretty I believe I would have been happy with it but they are going to try again. I suspect its a simple difference between a salesperson promising that their design team can do anything and the design team being a little more realistic about their abilities. D ordered his ring too so in a week or two we’ll have completed another step in the process.
Today I spent about six straight hours torching beads with 13 or so other people. I was definitely the dummy in the group, but that doesn’t mean I wont be back. I graduated to the big torch today, called a minor burner. It runs on a mix of propane and oxygen and is insanely hot. It is also very fast. I had some problems and I cant say I produced anything that I can’t wait to see but I figure the practice is good. The instructor is more enthusiastic about what I’m producing than I am...I suspect that for all my wonky-lop-sideds I’m picking it up quickly. I’m still not doing things ‘on purpose’, most of what is happening is by happy accident. Plus, there were some disasters today as well. But, oddly enough, I’m encouraged by them too; learning what the glass does is what its all about, even if it means learning what it wont do.
And now, at 6pm on a Saturday, I’m going to begin work on a baby quilt...that is due next weekend. Am I a glutton for punishment or what?
Laurie pops in on yahoo messenger almost every day to chat (shhh don’t tell the boss). We also do something I call, chat-shopping. For example, she challenged me to find a replacement for a kitchen mat she thought she’d ruined by spilling coffee on it. A coffee-themed mat no less – I figured the stain just made it more authentic – but Laurie wanted a new one. So we spent time sending links back and forth till we found a good one. She’s suffered through shoes, clothes and the odd ‘look at this stupid thing’ links during our online window shopping. And of course, lots of wedding stuff, from hair accessories to sewing patterns to dresses. Because we’d done this more than once I thought nothing of it when I showed her a cake topper I’d found online; one that seemed particularly perfect in an utterly hysterical sort of way.
I should have known what was in the package that arrived today. Totally should have guessed, but didn’t. Laurie enlisted Rox’s aid in countermanding my ‘no gift’ edict and sent me this cake topper.
I could not be more delighted – or embarrassed for opening my big mouth. I adore it…more so because it is from them…and for now its going to live on my desk at work, because it cracks me up every time I see it. I know we’re just long distance buddies, but I value you both for so many reasons other than you make me smile. Many, many thanks…for everything you do.
I dont know what it is about the bead making but it never fails to give me a bad night’s sleep. I suspect it is some weird combination of concentration and bright shiny objects. The night of class my dreams are full of hot glass and broken misshapen beads. In any case, the day after is its own odd combination of blurry-tired and excitement over what was produced. Last night we made ‘bubble beads’...beads with bubbles trapped inside them. They were time consuming or maybe just slow for me because there are many steps. I might have produced a good one and that I know one it total rubbish. But its really all about just learning what the glass does when its hot and as it cools. The best, and worst part, of the whole process is that when it goes into the kiln you still dont have a clear idea of what the finished bead will look like. It’s always a surprise. So far it has been difficult not to drive back to the art center on Thursdays to pick them up. But you know we’re supposed to be saving gas and all...so I resist. Still, there’s that one bead I’m dying to see. Sigh. Its probably better in my imagination anyway.
Saturday the center is having an open house and since they want to entice visitors to take classes they also entice the current class participants to show up and torch all day for $5. Three guesses where I’ll be all day Saturday...first two don’t count.